Korra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
anatural) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2013-07-18 09:24 am
anatural) wrote in poly_chromatic2013-07-18 09:24 am
Entry tags:
三十
[She's woken up by an incessantly cheery tune. It takes her awhile to place it as her network device -- and another while to figure why, because it's not the two beeps of a message or the tune Hei recorded to let her know her battery's dying.
It's a little calendar notification. One year in the City! She stares at it uncomprehending (always a little slow in the mornings).
One year.
Shaking her head, she takes a minute to figure out how to make the stupid notification away and then shoves that thought -- One year -- out of her head. She's just going to go about her day as normal. Ayup.]
[ video/action - late morning - option 1 ]
[Korra is out on the beach. You can only really see her face, but the sound of the waves is unmistakable.]
Hey Chekov, get over here. Bring swimtrunks. [It's time you learned how to swim, Spaceboy.]
[ action - late afternoon - option 2 ]
[Another day, another session of physical therapy. The hospital's practically a second (third?) home to her at this point. She walks through the front door, waves at the receptionist, and then makes her way towards the PT's office.]
[ action - evening - closed to Hei ]
[She's run out of ways to distract herself, but it's still too early to sleep. So even though she's tired -- and she's always tired, reason #754 why she hates that lunatic who shot her, because just being alive never used to be this exhausting -- she heads over to Hei's apartment to say hello and maybe be distracted.
Knock knock.]
It's a little calendar notification. One year in the City! She stares at it uncomprehending (always a little slow in the mornings).
One year.
Shaking her head, she takes a minute to figure out how to make the stupid notification away and then shoves that thought -- One year -- out of her head. She's just going to go about her day as normal. Ayup.]
[ video/action - late morning - option 1 ]
[Korra is out on the beach. You can only really see her face, but the sound of the waves is unmistakable.]
Hey Chekov, get over here. Bring swimtrunks. [It's time you learned how to swim, Spaceboy.]
[ action - late afternoon - option 2 ]
[Another day, another session of physical therapy. The hospital's practically a second (third?) home to her at this point. She walks through the front door, waves at the receptionist, and then makes her way towards the PT's office.]
[ action - evening - closed to Hei ]
[She's run out of ways to distract herself, but it's still too early to sleep. So even though she's tired -- and she's always tired, reason #754 why she hates that lunatic who shot her, because just being alive never used to be this exhausting -- she heads over to Hei's apartment to say hello and maybe be distracted.
Knock knock.]
no subject
She feigns surprise when she sees him and the girl pressed against the wall, lips locked and bodies grinding together.]
Oh. Hello.
[She doesn't look at or acknowledge Korra. She just looks at Hei, silently asking Should I leave? No embarrassment. She's walked in on worse in the battlefields of South America. (If not for Hei, she likely would have suffered worse herself.)]
no subject
[ The rush of deja vu is so strong he's nearly transplanted back to South America. He can almost catch that irritable noise Amber used to make, a sort of long low Hnnngh followed by a huff that sent strands of green hair dancing around her face. Pai? Privacy. To his credit, Hei doesn't tense or jerk. Not-quite-detached from Korra, he turns slowly, as if the two were engaged in some slow and stately dance -- a gavotte, maybe. He doesn't scowl, but his pupils are blown and his breathing is just a smidge uneven. ]
Xing. [ Half-scolding, but not embarrassed. (The war has left the siblings with nothing that resembles propriety or personal space.) Still, his own voice sounds hollow, half-breathless in his ears. Like he's been running. Or like he's a sulky caught-out teen. He doesn't answer her unspoken question. Not yet. Even at the worst, most personal moments, Pai tends to shove everything else to the back-burner. ]
[ Instead, tugging Korra's shirt down in an absent motion, he focuses on his sister, ] You're back early.
1/2
Korra buries her head against Hei's shoulder, but not before snatching a peek at this sister. She is the girl from the picture. Pieces click together, bit by bit.]
no subject
Another glance at her brother asks Who is she? (Little sister isn't possessive, no. But she likes to be informed.)]
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[ For a moment, Hei stays where he is, absorbing the bright curiosity in Pai's gaze and the flushed mortification on Korra's face. The dangerous happiness of Pai's arrival still has him caked up inside. The echo of Korra's kisses still shimmers through him. Taking a breath, he shakes his head clear. Squeezes Korra around the middle -- reassurance, maybe -- before letting go. Giving both the girls wide berth, he sidles carefully toward the kitchen counter. (Not to do anything in particular. Mostly just to hide that railroad spike shoved in his pants.) Leaning an elbow on the counter, he angles his body toward Pai. Another breath, then he summons almost a genuine smile and reaches a hand out. ]
I did.
[ But I expected you to stay out later. Enjoy my not-hovering. He doesn't say that. But his dry look implies it. At her questioning look, there's a peripheral gesture toward Korra. He introduces them reluctantly, and suddenly feels so much like his old self, the soldier in the war, gathering allies or enemies, it's uncanny. Not exactly deja vu, but he feels an echo, as he says ] Xing, Korra, [ of his other voice -- UB-001, HV-117. ]
1/2
[She isn't looking at Korra. Hardly even speaking to the other girl. Her gaze remains on Hei, obviously puzzled.
Xing? It's been so long, she hardly even knows her own name. Why is he using it with this stranger?]
no subject
You too.
[She takes a breath and stands straight. She can see the happiness -- or at least something as close to happiness as she's ever seen in him -- and it fills her with a wistful satisfaction that almost (but doesn't quite) drowns out the pangs of lust.]
I can go. I don't want to get in the way.
no subject
[ Korra's words stir him from his trance. Blinking, he glances at her. His mind still whirls from the strangeness of this moment, shaking out snippets of past memory, strong feelings that put him off-balance. It isn't fair, the way he's been put on the spot. For a moment both Pai and Korra seem to meld, then separate, then meld again as he watches them. Scowling, he tries to clear his vision. The sleepless hours he's crossed crunch up and slam him. He's tired. So tired, but also lonely. The type of lonely that has nothing to do with Pai. ]
[ To Korra, ] Do you want to go? [ The tone is almost combative, but the look is half-confidential. It seems to ask, Are you that uncomfortable? Because if she is, he has no business making her stay. ]
1/2
no subject
Stay! Have dinner with us. My brother is a great cook.
[She wants to know more about this girl involved with her brother.]
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She knows. I gave her cooking lessons once.
[ In her corner, a bubble of tension surrounds Korra. He can tell she wants to bolt. Hei half wants to do the same. But away from what, and to where, he can't say. The idea of sitting down for dinner, to Pai's big-eyed scrutiny and Korra's palpable awkwardness, is nightmarish. He knows his sister too well. He knows what sort of questions she'll ask, her mischief hidden beneath a veneer of good-natured interest. And he knows Korra. Sooner or later she'll spontaneously combust. ]
[ (But the pragmatist in him, the one that faces every challenge head-on, warns him that evasion won't work. The sooner this dinner begins, sooner it'll be over with.) ]
[ Near-toneless, he says, ] Yeah. Stay. [ With a pointed glance at Pai. I'll deal with you later. ]
no subject
Uh, okay. Sure. Thanks.